Page 32 of Second Chance

“I’m at a better advantage like this.”

Mati snorts, and I realize too late the innuendo in my statement. However, her dirty mind triggers mine, and I slip my knee higher. Mati’s thighs separate, allowing for the broad curl of my leg. I’m an inch away from an area I imagine needs some extra attention. Then I notice her hips shift. I kneel forward, adjusting my knee to add pressure against her center. Mati’s hands fist.

“How long’s it been, Mati?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Her eyes pop open. She moved the circular cushion out of her way and rests her head on its side against the floor. She isn’t looking at me, but her eye shifts in my direction.

“Since you’ve had sex.” I pause, rethinking. “Do you touch yourself?”

She chuckles sarcastically. “Denton, do you have any shame?”

“There’s no shame in touching yourself, Mati. Is that how you get relief?” My voice lowers, the rubbing of her muscles turning more to strokes down her skin. My knee pushes forward, nudging her center to press back. She shivers. Her head gives a single shake.

“You don’t touch yourself?” I tease, my voice drawing lower at the possibility.

“I don’t…I don’t know how.” I startle at her confession but even more at her honesty. She’s telling me she doesn’t pleasure herself and it takes all my strength not to rip the sheet from her body and relieve her myself.

“Let me teach you,” I whisper, leaning forward near her ear.

“You can’t,” she says, her face pinking. “This is so embarrassing. Why are we discussing this?”

I ignore her and kneel upward, reaching for a bolster pillow on the couch. The circular curve of the pillow will be perfect for what she needs.

My knee still balances against her core, but I’m sensing she won’t get off on me. Instead, I remove my leg and set the pillow in its place.

“Get up on your knees.” The demand comes out rough, my throat tightening at the thought of her on all fours and what I’d do to her on her knees, but this needs to be about Mati.

“What?” She swallows but does what I ask. Compliant Mati. Some things don’t change. I push some of the excess sheet upward as Mati follows my lead and tugs the material forward. Her calves are exposed, along with her back. The sheet only covers her ass and her breasts. She looks practically Grecian in her attire and I want to be the gladiator to conquer her.

I slip the pillow into the space between her thighs, and gently push at her lower back, forcing her to lower on it.

“Ride the pillow,” I command, watching as Mati keeps her forehead pinned to the floor. Her elbows bend for support.

“I can’t do this with you watching,” she mutters, her head rolling side to side.

“It’s me, Mati. You can do this.” I don’t know why I encourage her, why I offer such torture as being a witness to this, but the need to be near her overwhelms me. “I’ll leave everything to you. I’ll just be the coach.”

I straddle her spread calves, mine resting on either side of hers. I’m careful not to let my hard-on tap her ass but I’m so close—too close—and I ache to press the seam of my zipper against the thin sheet covering her. One hand on the floor holds me balanced over her, while the other reaches for her hip and presses downward. Then tugs up. Down. Up. I use her hip to form a rhythm, causing her to rock against the cylinder pillow.

“Oh, God,” she mutters, her body slowly giving into the beat. Down. Up. I follow along, still using all my strength not to touch her with my straining dick. Mati’s picking up the pace a little, but she whimpers.

“It isn’t enough.”

“Touch yourself.” My voice growls. “Slip your fingers into the sheet. I can’t see anything.”

She needs to be aware I can’t visually see what she’s doing to herself, although I know every detail. I feel her movements, and my dick senses her warm presence. Her fingers fumble into the sheet, and the edge of her breast is exposed. Side-boob. A sexy treat. My mouth waters for a nipple, but I refrain, keeping my concentration on driving her into the pillow, increasing the friction with the touch of her fingers.

She hesitates, and the pause almost sends me to the moon. I imagine her first touch. The shock at the soft skin. The wonder at the wetness. The sensation of pleasure.

My God, I need to have a first touch myself.

Her confidence building, her rocking motion proves she does what I ask.

“Are you wet, Mati?” My voice roughens as does my force on her hip.

“Oh God, this is so wrong.”

“Not wrong, Mati. Feels good, doesn’t it? Just feel.”